Ciò che mi appartiene
by Shay426
Summary: "Ciò che mi appartiene è mia per farne ciò che voglio."  or  "What belongs to me is mine to do with as i wish"  rated T, though it's all implied, Dark!Feli.
1. Chapter 1

Ok, so this is set in Renaissance Italy. The Italy brothers are adults [despite what the cannon Hetalia may tell you… it makes the story work, damn it!] _Italics _are words in Italian, but I wanted you to be able to immediately comprehend them. Normal font means that the servant girl can understand what is being said. Watch out! Dark!Feli is here, so if you don't want to ruin your innocent head-cannon Feli, turn back now. It's all implied, but I don't want to ruin anyone's innocence [hence T rating]. Read on.

~~~~Ciò che mi appartiene è mia per farne ciò che voglio.~~~~~

I was thrust in front of two twins lounging on a couch. They were going to be my new masters. I could tell from their rich clothing and the way they held themselves that they had plenty of money. The only question now was if they wanted me.

"_Will she do_?" My old master, the one who had employed me since I was brought here as conquest, spoke to them in Italian. They answered back together, a single vote 'yes'. I would stay here.

"_Hello, pretty girl! And where are you from_?" The lighter haired one leaned toward me, smiling. He seemed like a nice man. I stuttered out a phrase, one of the few I knew, in Italian.

"_I speak no your language._"

The darker haired one yelled something, and I was afraid he would hit me, as this wasn't uncommon. "_That bastard promised me_!"

I shrank back into myself, hoping not to be the target of his anger, but instead I felt an arm wrap around me. The lighter haired one had come and crouched next to me to comfort me. "Shh… There is no need to be frightened." He said to me in my native tongue. It was the first I'd heard of it since I'd been stolen away.

"_Feliciano…_"His brother said in a warning tone. Surely the mean man was getting angry at his own brother for being nice to me. I would definitely have to avoid him whenever possible.

"_No need for worry, brother! I'm sure this one will last much longer than the others_." They were speaking Italian again, and I was hopelessly lost. At least I could count on my light haired master to be kind to me. I glanced up, a risk since I didn't know if I was allowed, and saw his eyes change into eyes that didn't match his angel face.

Now they were the kind of eyes that look right through to the goodness inside of you and eat it up. They were the eyes of the men on the ship I was brought here in, when they would go through the women's cells, picking out the ones they liked for the night. They were savage eyes. Cold-blooded eyes. Vicious, hungry, wolf eyes.

And then his face turned toward me. I couldn't look away; I was hypnotized by those eyes.

And then his eyes fit his face again. They were the eyes that make you feel safe, again. They were the eyes of the women of my village who took care of me after my mother and father died. They were benevolent eyes. Gentle eyes. Soft, loving, puppy eyes.

I must be confused from the long ride here. I didn't get much sleep and I didn't get much to eat or drink. How could I mistake such a kind face for one so terrible?

"Let me show you to your room?" He spoke again, in such a soothing tone and in my language. I nodded my head 'yes'- anything to stay in this man's good grace- and he lifted me up. I realized I had been staring at his face the whole time and hid my head in shame. A master should not carry his servants! He was kind, far too kind. I did not deserve such kindness.

"_Feliciano…_" His brother warned again. I do not like my dark haired master. He is scary and harsh. I wish I could only serve my light haired master. "_I will let by your indulgences, but this one had better not escape. I do not pry into your business, but it isn't something I want to witness._"

His brother had a disgusted expression on his face, I could tell even though I was making sure only to look with the corner of my eyes. No doubt, he would punish me for looking at him without permission. He was probably telling his brother not to touch a dirty slave girl.

I looked up at my light haired master once again for reassurance, and, for a moment, I think I see those eyes- no, I am mistaken once again. The light shifted and his lovely face was thrown into relief. I must stop looking at his face, as it is so disrespectful I am sure to be whipped.

But it is so beautiful…

So angelic…

So holy…

I couldn't look away if I tried.


	2. Chapter 2

I was seriously wincing while writing this. I tried to tone it down, but couldn't, so the rating has been upped to "M" for uhh… graphic torture? Anyway there's the warning. Also, I do not own Hetalia- thank god.

~~~~Ciò che mi appartiene è mia per farne ciò che voglio.~~~~~

Twelve days.

Or, at least, I think it has been twelve. He's fed me twelve times and he's... come for me twelve times.

How wrong I was.

It's the wolf eyes that fit and the angel face that doesn't. He was worse than the men on our ship, worse than the traders when they wanted to 'appraise' the women, worse than the crooks that would sneak into the slave stalls at night when we were chained up, worse-

Oh god.

I hear the door start to be unlocked.

I can no longer see. I don't know if it's from only being exposed to light through the candlelit times when he was here or if it's from the second night when he dripped his oldest wine into my eyes.

Every night he chooses something new and ten times worse than the last. The first night was laughable, now. Lashes until all of the skin on my back was gone. I remember thinking he was punishing me for looking at him earlier or that it was his brother punishing me for letting my light haired master carry me.

I knew better now.

It was the fourth night, I believe- when he broke all my fingers and toes one by one- that i realized that he wasn't punishing me.

He was just doing it because he wanted to.

Because he _liked_ it.

He's here now, saying something to me in Italian. Oh god, i wish i was home. I wish i was back on the boat, back with the traders, anywhere but _here_.

Suddenly there is a wrenching pain in my knee and a loud crunch.

Oh god.

Oh god.

My world goes from shadowy brown to white and i can't even think. He smashed my knee.

He's grabbing the other one- and hesitates.

Not because he feels bad- no, he just likes seeing the look on my face as i anticipate the next injury. Now i can feel his hot breath on my ear. "_Do you know what you look like so scared? You look pathetic. And helpless. And I can't help but love to break helpless and pathetic things._"

With a crack and a snap, he twists my other knee around so my leg is facing the wrong direction. I am pleading with him now, babbling things that i don't even understand. The pain makes my head fuzzy and i think i might pass out.

Oh dear god, let me pass out.

He steps on the wet mess that used to be my right knee and along with the burst of pain comes the darkness. The last thing i remember is begging for him to kill me again and again.

But i know he won't.

Which is the worst part of the torture.


End file.
